Scolari's pride and prejudice were a headline in waiting

The Football Association's selection committee may feel like buffoons right now but they don't know how lucky they are. When Luiz Felipe Scolari saw the writing on the tabloid wall and left Brian Barwick twiddling his tie and wiping custard pie from his eyes, they were rescued from themselves.

The media whore in me had been licking her lubricious lips at the prospect. Big Phil and the British press were a catastrophe waiting to happen. His big mouth and their unique ability make a molehill into a mountain and a mountain into the Sierra Madre is now the greatest disaster movie never made.

As we sat around the Five Live Breakfast office at 4.40am on the day we were to lead on his "appointment", my co-host, Shelagh Fogarty, casually asked: "Isn't he the prejudiced one?" I said she was quite wrong. "That's Arragones," I muttered, with the tone of a man weary of womanly ignorance. After picking my cojones off the floor we checked it out and by George she got it!

Scolari's interview with the Mexican paper La Crónica de Hoy in July 2001 would have provided great sport. He said he had not liked Kuwait because there were too many homosexuals there. "I don't like to see so many gays. If I find out that one of my players is gay, then I quickly get rid of him."

One well placed question from Richard Madeley to Tony Blair did for Glenn Hoddle, and "Do you agree with the England manager, Prime Minister?" would make for a delicious moment on the GMTV couch for Gordon, Tony or Dave and a fiesta for the papers. The FA's big nobs would be under their desks.

The South American and, indeed, Portuguese press are paragons of taste and restraint in comparison with here. I've trawled through a load of articles in the past few days and this, from Sociedad in 2001, is about as strong as it gets. Pardon my Spanish. "His vision of the world is locked in the maternal uterus, where never it left. It is a well of contradictions that come out whenever he opens his mouth. He is a troglodyte, who, among other things, already praised Pinochet as being an 'exemplary Governor'."

So, he is a macho Brazilian who believes that men are men, cows are breakfast and Pinochet was a good egg. The latter is an argument, as Mrs Thatcher would aver. But unlike Scolari's stated views on gays, which he is rather more judicious about expressing these days, Phil is quite happy to bore for Brazil on the virtues of the Generalissimo. Scolari's politics are certainly closer to Paulo Di Canio than Keir Hardie, which is fine if you like that kind of thing. It is an admiration that ties in with his love for order and discipline. But for a section of press and society in this country, respect for him would disappear like the thousands in Chile between 1973 and 1990.

After the carry-on Sven years, David Dein for one was obviously tempted by a man perceived to be the Swede's opposite: a "defender of conjugal fidelity", as one South American publication described him. The fact that Scolari is untroubled by tall, tanned, young and lovely diversions that might occasionally go passing by (or Faria Alam) was seen as a huge merit but in these circumstances it is meretricious. Better a man who doesn't know when to keep his trousers on than one who doesn't know when to keep his gob shut.

The yelled and taped conversation with a journalist in the lobby of the Portuguese FA last week was a timely reminder of his verbal promiscuity. Famously a Brazilian TV crew recorded a team talk in which he berated his players for not kicking an opponent. Add a propensity for telling ball boys to disrupt the opposition, his penchant for punching journalists - albeit endearing to many - his volcanic reaction to criticism, his tendency to defend the indefensible in his players and you know what? I am missing him already.

Forget any German sensitivities, the FA should be cracking open a bottle and whistling The Great Escape.

Scottish Sects appeal reveals equal opportunities for hatred

Uefa's decision not to fine Rangers for their fans' sectarian chanting because it is a particularly Scottish problem is the most perverse since OJ walked. It is vapid moral relativism. But what makes those among my friends unused to the cultural delights of West Central Scotland choke on their mochachinos is just how some Rangers fans can so joyously celebrate being up to their knees in Fenian blood.

I made contact with some loyalist Rangers organisations. One website looked promising. "We perceive an orchestrated campaign against Protestants in selected corners of the British Isles. This has taken the form of both cultural and physical genocide." At least they are getting it in proportion. I set a leading member the challenge of explaining to Guardian readers why it was all right to sing Billy Boys. "The rationale that the use of the word 'Fenian' is sectarian and a slur on Roman Catholics is amazing since the Roman Catholic church was against the Fenian movement. Unfortunately this is due to sloppy and lazy journalism. If you listen closely you will hear Celtic fans singing songs which glorify the IRA. They are therefore classed as Fenians who are in support of a subversive and divisive organisation." So next time we'll know it is merely political aperçu.

"Jim", a likeable fan from another 'loyal' supporters' club, was more thoughtful. "I have sung it when I'm drunk but I'd be quite happy if we didn't. Criticising the Roman Catholic religion is a legitimate viewpoint but a football match is not a legitimate way to put that viewpoint across."

The history of anti-Catholic discrimination in Scottish society tells us there is no parity of blame but that does not mean one bigot is not as bad as another. "It wasn't the Rangers fans calling Alex McLeish 'a sad Orange bastard' the other day," says Jim. And when Celtic supporters sing of Rangers' Catholic player Chris Burke as "the Fenian in the blue" they do their cause no favours either.

Come on Eileen, your country needs you

It is not, of course, a tragedy that Wayne Rooney may miss the World Cup but it is bad news. He is such a marvellous player and the greatest stage of all was just waiting for him. What can we do? Well, I rang Eileen Drewery. Whatever she can muster from her medallion-wearing ancient Egyptian spirit guide Zyphos or the ghost of her dead chihuahua Chippy, bring it on.

She is a lovely woman and she gave me a rare and exclusive interview. She was initially reluctant, as she still has issues with the FA. Once she had warmed up, Eileen reminded me of Darren Anderton, who had an inch-long tear in his thigh but, thanks to some hands-on healing, was match fit a mere five days later. Could she heal Rooney in time for the World Cup? Come on, Eileen. "If he or someone close to him asked me and it was nothing to do with the FA, I would. With the asking it will be done." Come on, Coleen.

Children on cue

I was watching snooker the other day when I went to put the kettle on. Within seconds I heard those whoops of delight and horror in which small children specialise. "Daddy, it's the child catcher, it's the child catcher," screamed my seven- and six-year-old. They hadn't sneakily changed channel to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang but caught sight of Peter Ebdon.